Cats understand the good life

Halloween 2008, a half-foot of snow on the ground melts under a terrifically warm, sunny, 55-degree cloudless blue sky. Kids will sweat in their costumes as they parade through town, its that warm. The mothers of the kids will squeal with delight, theyll dub this day a most beautiful Indian Summer Halloween. But shouldnt it be dubbed a most beautiful Native American Summer Halloween? Up next for some of the mamas will be the day after Thanksgiving, waiting in an early morning line (I welcome those of you from New York to use, on when referring to the line and the wait), busting and elbowing past less fit mamas, finding better bargains, on already bargain goods, at bargain stores. What a bargain. And they call this day, Black Friday. How could you not be, in this day and age, calling it, African American Friday? While Im thinking about political correctness, I want now, in case I get busy in the upcoming months and forget, to wish you all a very Merry Christmas. And lets all us Vermonters pray its an old fashioned Caucasian one. Ta hang with politically correctness. What I wish I could do, is live my life just plain old, correct. I mess up on so many things that to list them would put me ten thousand words beyond my appointed five hundred. But here now, watching my cat stay within sun lit patches on the floor, gleefully cleaning every nook of any cranny on her little body, I realize to emulate her life would be making a strong first step in trying to live correct. Why cant I be, more like my cat, she lies in the sun, to wash this or that, I dont bend like she does, thered be places Id miss, but dont worry Im clean, on the places youd kiss, Shes smart too my kitty, she dont overeat, she stays thin and wiry, and light on her feet, The two lines above, they rhyme well because, I used the word feet, where I should of used paws, Shes not met a stranger, shes friendly to others, Id be much more like her, if I had my druthers, When you pet her shes happy, she proves it with purrs, but if a dogs close around, shell protect what is hers, Shes perceptive and bright, and knows before me, when the grandfather clock, is about to strike three, Shell roll on the ground, or jump and free fall, just to make herself happy, for no reason at all, Her heart never beats, much more than it should She has things in perspective, I wish that I could, So see folks my kitty, cute Scarlet shes grand, She lives her life well, lets give her a hand, But before we do that, lets look at her eating, A cluster fly that, she just gave a good beating. Rusty DeWees tours Vermont and Northern New York with his act The Logger. His column appears weekly. He can be reached at rustyd@pshift.com. Listen for The Logger, Rusty DeWees, Thursdays at 7:40 on the Big Station, 98.9 WOKO or visit his website at www.thelogger.com

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